


Warmth

by CinderPoppy (salamanderssmile)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Death, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shen!!!! has!!!!! PTSD!!!!! and so does Zed but this is focused on my son Shen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderssmile/pseuds/CinderPoppy
Summary: There was a method of particular horror in Khada Jhin's works that brought up the worst memories of a past one would struggle to forget.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShimadaGenji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShimadaGenji/gifts).



There was a particular horror in Khada Jhin’s “works”. Shen had forgotten about it. Even the slithering shadows that followed Zed recoiled at the carnage. It was petrifying, painfully horrid. The Eye of Twilight could feel his stomach churn and his eyes fill with tears. No wonder Jhin was once thought to be a demon. His art was gruesome and cruel, uncaring to its unwilling participants. There were bullets through the right eye of every one of the three victims. Two children, and an adult. The man seemed to have been a merchant, by his clothes. They were posed such that his post mortem deformities made him into a gigantic insect, about to feed on the distracted children that were hanging by the joints from the ceiling like discarded puppets. Shen couldn't tell whether they had been tied like that in life or death. Even their clothes had been rearranged and changed to suit the eccentric tastes of the “artist”.

“I think we both know who did this.” Zed said, breaking the heavy silence that had befallen the living room made into a crime scene. “Either it was him, or someone fanatic for his ‘work’.”

“Yes. And either way, they are a danger to this world.” Shen’s reply was somber, serious. “Let us leave, then.”

“Yes, let us.” Zed’s voice held a hidden tremor, like a distant earthquake. Shen could not judge him, nor did he want to.

Their clothes were of simple make, not the armor they were used to. It let Shen see the corners of Zed’s mouth tremble in something akin to disgust as they walked side by side towards the inn they were staying at. The Eye could faintly feel the students of the Shadow following them, materializing behind walls and in darkened corners. Zed really should make a better job at teaching them to stay hidden. Ignoring their presence at his and Zed’s heels, Shen tried to clear his mind, find balance. With balance, peace would follow, and he could go on another day of chasing Khada Jhin. But deep inside him something was out of place. The distant horizon was dark already, deep blue slowly engulfing the celestial abode, bringing with it the glitter of stars. Even the splendorous view seemed grayer to him.

When they finally reached the inn, both entered with lowered heads, gloomy demeanor drowning in the oddly somber atmosphere of the place. The patrons must had heard, then, of what happened. Shen wondered how many knew the victims, how many were their neighbors or friends. One was too many. Zed was headed to a table in a corner distant from the fireplace. Shen felt suffocated, nauseated; he doubted he would be able to put food in his mouth, even less eat it. Hesitantly, he touched Zed’s arm, drawing his red eyed attention. One of his eyebrows was lifted in a silent question.

“I won’t eat tonight.” Shen told him, hand slipping off the other ninja’s arm.

“Hm.” Zed huffed, but said no judgement, instead quietly replying with: “I'll see you in the morning, then. We will leave early.”

“I know.” Lilac eyes narrowed in annoyance for a brief moment before Shen controlled himself, turning on his heels to head for the rooms in the back of the place.

The hallway connecting the two sides of the inn was composed of beautifully weaved arches that no doubt felt as a dream to someone not haunted by visions of a tangible nightmare. He felt jittery inside, like his spirit was trembling, shaking like green leaves. He had trouble opening his door, as if he could not put enough strength behind his movements. When he sat down on his bed, he looked at his hands, and saw they were shaking. Tried as he might, he could not stop it, nor could he stop the spreading tremors through his body. Soon, Shen as a whole was trembling, coiled tight and tense, and his eyes stung with unshed tears. He tried to regain control over himself, but only managed to keep down a sob.

From the back of his mind, terrible memories flourished. The scenes, Jhin’s “works” that he had witnessed long ago, with Zed and his father. Grief and horror grew in equal measures and the memories flooded his brain, pain contorting his insides. His existence was wavering between physical and spiritual, powers of the Eye of Twilight lead astray by a lack of balance. He couldn't focus, couldn't think, and soon the sob wrestled itself out of his throat, bringing with it seemingly endless tears. Shen wrapped his own arms around himself, seeking comfort he couldn't find. He felt as a boat adrift in the ocean, set upon by a storm. He felt lonely - and hollow, so hollow. Shen shivered and swayed, feeling cold inside. He remembered feeling the same when he was younger, maybe even worse. He missed the comfort he would find in his father, and that only worsened his grief.

Without thinking, Shen rose to stand on his feet, walking unbalanced through the hallway until he reached Zed’s room. He knocked on the door and waited, holding back more tears, for an answer. He was not certain if he seemed stoic on the outside or not, but for once, he didn't care. He certainly didn't  _ feel _ balanced, much to his disgrace, and it pained him, because such was his duty. But he couldn't focus, couldn't stop reliving those horrible things he had to witness over and over again.

 

When Zed heard the knock on the door, he imagined that maybe Kayn wanted to talk to him. It'd be a welcome distraction from the memories of Khada Jhin’s “art”. But lo and behold, the one walking in was Shen, stoic as always, but something was wrong. He seemed jittery, and his eyes… his eyes only grew violet like that when he weeped. Frowning, Zed stood up from where he was sitting on the bed, attempting, and failing, to read a book. He crossed his arms as Shen closed the door behind him, arms falling at his sides in sagging motions, as if they were too heavy for him to lift. The shimmering veil that often surrounded the other ninja was fluctuating, much like Shen’s relationship with the physical plane at that moment.

Zed concluded the other must had been a greater mess than him, which was saying something, as he could barely eat at dinner and murmuring to himself in search of some odd comfort. But Shen started shivering as if caught in a blizzard, and Zed grew worried. Because, even through everything he had seen Shen go through, never had the man ever seemed so shaken. If the Master of Shadows was honest, the Eye of Twilight seemed bent and broken. His worry was overwhelming his good senses, because he reached out with a hand and asked:

“Shen? Are you alright?” There was no answer, not even a shake of his head or a nod as the other ninja stared at Zed’s hand. “Shen? Shen!”

Abruptly, the Eye took his hand and stepped forward, and soon, Zed found himself enveloped in a loose hug, Shen’s head buried in his shoulder. Even more worried, he tried to push Shen away so he could look at him, but the man just tightened his arms around Zed’s chest. It reminded him of when they were young, chasing the same monster with Kusho, huddling together at night, in fear and awe. He refused to acknowledge it, but Zed missed those days, in a way, missed what was happening again.

“Shen. What happened?” He asked, quietly.

“I can't stop thinking about it. I can't.” Shen’s voice was anguished, if muffled.

“Neither can I…” Zed’s, in turn, was barely a whisper as he finally enveloped the other in an embrace. He felt Shen nod against his shoulder in acknowledgement.

It felt… good to have Shen in his arms again. He missed it. Missed being close enough to someone to just hold them. It felt like there was a part of him that neither purpose nor shadow could fill, that was cold as ice, and that Shen was slowly bringing warmth back into it. Zed struggled against it, the feeling of comfort, of how  _ right _ it felt to just hold and be held, of how much he wanted it. Refused to put thought into it, certain that if he ignored it, it would go away. But it didn't, and it wouldn't, not while Shen was still there, hugging him tight. Caving in, Zed tightened his own grip around the other’s torso, gently rocking them back and forth on the balls of his heels. All he could think about was the lilac of Shen’s eyes, the warmth of his skin, the tangibility of his form. It chased the memories away, made it easier to breathe, even through the iron grip around his chest.

“Shen?” He asked after a while. They had sat down on the bed, still locked in a tight hug.

“Yes?” Shen seemed quieter, calmer, more stoic. He wasn't shivering anymore.

“Sleep here tonight.” Zed almost bit his tongue as he said that. He didn't know what he was thinking.

“Alright…” Shen didn't seem so sure, actually pulling away for a second to look Zed in the eyes. And then he repeated: “Alright”, and that time he sounded certain.

After so long, the two lay in bed, still wearing their day clothes, too tired inside and out to change, huddled together in search of comfort they couldn't find alone.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from a bastille song fight me


End file.
